


Wishful Beatle History

by jbeakers



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Historical Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbeakers/pseuds/jbeakers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>August 1968. What if Ringo had a studio fit and spoke his mind... and I gave him the words?  Well, I gave everyone their words?  This is pure author indulgence, and doesn't mean a thing. I don't own Beatles or any other characters. What's the fun in knowing history if you can't play with  it a bit?? ;)</p><p>PS. No beta. All goofs belong to me...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishful Beatle History

“I don’t like it Paul, it isn’t as granny as usual, but something’s missing. I’m trying not to hate it…”

 

“There isn’t good feeling, you know. A good song sounds good, but the great ones make listeners want to stay on the musical plane you create and…”

 

“Shut up, Yoko. Please. If you’ll just let John and I have this discussion without interruption, maybe we’ll finish it before hell freezes over…”

 

“Fuck you, Paul. You can’t talk to her like that.” John jumped from his place on the floor ready for battle.

 

He never got the chance.

 

“ **E- FUCKING-NUFF!!!!!!!** ” Two drumsticks sailed past John’s head and skittered across the piano behind him.

 

All eyes turned to the source of the exclamation:  Quiet, laid back, even tempered Ringo Starr stood behind his drum kit fuming.  He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a deep breath, then stepped from behind the kit and headed straight for Yoko. Oh no.

 

John, anticipating the worst, stepped in his path. Ringo looked into John’s eyes and murmured, “Special circumstances, mate. If you don’t step aside this instant you will find out first hand what ‘son of the Dingle’ means.

 

John stepped aside.

 

Pasting on a calmer face, Ringo approached Yoko and put his hand out to help her off the floor. “Come, dear. You should leave now. I’m about to lose my English gentleman sensibilities, and no lady should bear witness to it.”

 

Paul rolled his eyes. George rolled his, too.  John just watched.

 

“Oh, Ringo. I appreciate your concern for me, you know. You need not worry; I am not a fragile woman who cannot handle…”

 

“Yoko? I’m only going to ask nicely once. I can appreciate your strong woman sentiment, but if you don’t leave right fucking now, I’m going to throw you out the door. This isn’t a good day to test me, luv.”

 

Yoko looked up at John’s face, which had gone pale. It was a sign... you know. She was getting the fuck out. She accepted Ringo’s hand and allowed herself to be led to the door.

 

 Ringo then turned around and shouted to the studio, “Anyone who isn’t a Beatle needs to get the FUCK OUT. Turn everything OFF. Recorders, everything.” Silently, George Martin, two engineers and a cameraman hustled to the door and slipped out. Ringo shut the door and locked it.

 

Now letting his anger rule the day, he strode to the center of the studio floor and pointed at John. “Problem One, come stand here.” John walked over and stood where Ringo indicated. He then pointed at Paul. “Problem Two, come stand next to him.” Paul complied.

 

“George, you sit or stand anywhere you like. This is a Beatle discussion, but I’m gonna speak for you; if you have anything to add, or object to, just say so.” George nodded his agreement and settled in for the show.

 

“So I have before me the _Great Lennon and McCartney_. Nothing any of us say will leave this room. And as I have a terrible streak of paranoia, I’ll ask George to go up to the control room to make sure all the recording equipment is off.”

 

Without a word, George carefully put his guitar aside and ran upstairs to the control room. His voice crackled down through the public address speaker. “It’s all off Rings. I’m going to open the main power switch and disable the board completely.” Ringo nodded, and soon George scrambled back downstairs and took his original seat.

 

Ringo turned to his small audience. “I have one question to begin with. Are you two playing some kind of sick sex game with this band?”

 

Problem One and Two’s eyes widened and their mouths dropped open, but not a sound came forth.

 

“Oh, have I confused you?” The angry drummer approached the pair and grabbed a liberal handful of genius boy bits in each hand; the silence was replaced with painful grunts in different keys. Something like harmony.

 

“You see, I’m an observant type of lad. So is George. We were wondering if you two get off on all this fighting shit. Has the composer bed gotten a bit frosty of late?? In the old days, your trousers filled without any sort of conflict, yeah?” He gave each man a lecherous twist and let go. George snickered.

 

“You’re fucking crazy, Ritch…”

 

“Shut up, Lennon. I’m not finished.” John snapped his mouth shut.

 

“C’mon, Rings. We don’t need to…”

 

“You shut up, too, McCartney.  If you two thought Geo and me completely stupid, you misjudged us. We’ve known since fucking Hamburg what’s been up with you two.  I knew before I even officially joined. But you know what? I didn’t give a shit; I still don’t. I wanted to be a Beatle. I wanted success, and I got it with the help of two very talented queers. Neither George nor I have ever given a bloody damn. Suck and fuck yourselves silly, as long as it doesn’t drag on the music.”

 

“But it’s affecting more than the music, now…” George added.

 

“Yes it is. It’s fucking everything up, and we’re tired of it. Whatever you have to do to fix it… DO SO.”

 

Problem One and Two nodded slowly, both with red color creeping up their necks.

 

“Now I’ll address Problem Number Three, which I figure has much to do with whatever’s going on with the first two problems. That god-awful woman. I’m sorry, John, I’ve always had a personal policy to not offer an opinion unless asked; but your decision making has me worried.”

 

“You better stop right there, Ritch. It’s none of your fucking business what I—…”

 

“NO JOHN. It’s my turn. You’ve lost your fucking mind. While the rest of us have imbibed plenty on all sorts of drugs and alcohol, it appears you’ve gone out of control. If you want to lead us so badly, be a motherfucking LEADER. Fine, if you like this woman, feel free to carry on with her… but not here. This is our work, this is our life.”

 

George stood up. “It’s truly distracting, John. We’ve never let someone come in here and offer opinions about what we’re doing, particularly non musical people. She isn’t a Beatle. She isn’t you, and you can fuck off if you think she knows you better than we do. She doesn’t.  I can be nice to her for your sake, but not here. If your confidence is so shaken that you have to bring someone else in here, I believe we’re finished as a band.”

 

John was by now purple with rage, fists clenched tight and his jaw taut. He was shaking, but maintained his silence.

 

Paul stepped forward. “Well, I think—.”

 

Ringo stepped to Paul and stabbed a finger hard on his chest as he interrupted him. “No. You don’t speak. You’re as bad as she is right now. You and this bustling about in here making silly little quips and noises;  when you’re not doing that you’re arguing pointless shit. Remember when we actually spoke our minds, Paul? The cooperation is gone. You’re playing right into the game Mr. Lennon here has begun… or should I be honest and speculate that he’s been PROMPTED to play by Problem Number Three. ”

 

Without fear, Ringo turned to Lennon. “Tell me I don’t know you, John. I can already hear the bullshit you’re dying to let fly out of your gob. Go ahead, Mr. Black and White… threaten to be Mr. Big Leader and end the group. Is that the threat she proposed you use? Has she told you your talent is wasted within these walls? Did she put it in prettier terms than that? Are there other lovely lies you’ve listened to? Maybe that we’ve turned against you and have decided you’re worthless?  That we never valued you in the first place?”

 

John flinched as if Ringo had hit him. Ringo wanted to hit him. Everything he suspected had just been confirmed. Paul and George saw it, too. John remained silent, so Ringo pressed on, his voice thickening.

 

“Toppermost of the Poppermost. That was our battle cry when we felt we were up against it, wasn’t it?  You felt damn secure in your leadership position then… what has changed? If you’ve grown bored with us, do us the service of being honest and saying so. This business of drugs and strangers speaking for you isn’t working. Christ, while we all thought the madness was over when we quit touring, it’s only gotten worse. Instead of screaming girls we have the Three Problems, bitching, ranting, and ‘advising’. It’s bullshit, all of it." Ringo paused as another question occurred to him.

 

“Can anyone here tell me the last time a genuine laugh was had in studio? I mean genuine, not drug fueled nonsensical laughter. I would say that’s an indication that we’re not having fun any longer. Wouldn’t you?”

 

The silence was oppressive.

 

Ringo crossed his arms and blew out a heavy sigh.

 

“From the looks of it, maybe I’ve gotten through. I can see on your faces that your minds are moving instead of your mouths. I’ll consider that a positive sign. My plan is to take a two week holiday. When I return to the studio, Problem Three had best not be here. That will be a clear indication that Problem One and Two are not going to resolve their differences, and the game will be over. I’ll publicly announce my retirement, and get on with whatever the next phase of my life is. I will not speak ill of any of you should this happen. We’re The Beatles, and I won’t shit upon the memory of us.”

 

He paused offering a chance for rebuttal.

 

“Since I’m not a part of the obvious power struggle happening between Problem One and Two, I would suggest that if Problem Three is not here when I return that we begin a regular schedule of meetings to discuss the business and ways to handle things. No one needs to answer. I’ll be seeing you all in two weeks. Let’s go, George. I think these lads have some things to talk about.”

 

George walked to the door and waited as Ringo stopped and hugged a shocked John and then Paul. “You two need to listen to your own words and look to each other for your answers. Begin with _We Can Work It Out_. You’re a lot wiser as a team than as individuals. I’ve said all of this because I love all of you, and I love this band. Neither of you are the spiteful, hateful men I’ve seen of late. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

 

Lennon and McCartney watched the other half of The Beatles exit the studio, then turned and stared at each other. John blinked and spoke first.

 

“We do have to talk. I’ll be right back.” As he turned to leave, Paul caught his arm.

 

“Wait, John. Don’t do this, just sit down and relax a minute…”

 

“No. I have to go get rid of Yoko. Now. Forever. Then I have to call Cyn. I came very, very close to making a huge fucking mistake, I think. I have to get rid of her and call Cyn. She’s on holiday and I want her and Julian home yesterday. Oh, God, Paul… I was all set to humiliate my wife tomorrow, the day before her wedding anniversary. It can’t happen. It won’t happen.  What the fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem.”

 

Rendered speechless, Paul stood and stared at him.

 

“I know. I can’t believe it myself. I’ve been a bastard all along, but there’s a difference between being a bit stupid and being fucking evil. Cyn hasn’t done anything but marry me and have a kid. She doesn’t deserve that shit.  I have to get rid of that woman; I need it to happen today.”

 

Paul finally had time to process all he’d been told, and shook his head.

 

“Yeah, okay. Wow, John. I had no idea. I. I’m kind of at a loss for words.”

 

“Just don’t. Say you’ll come with me, though. I don’t know whether I need you to protect me or Yoko… either way, I need a witness.”

 

John thought about what he said. “Actually, I just need you. I’ve no right to ask because I’ve treated you like shit, too…”

 

Paul smiled and took John’s hand. “C’mon, son, one thing at a time. Life is very short, let’s go solve the first problem.”


End file.
